“Please stop saying shit. You’re making me nervous.”
"Carson, if you really love her, it will work out because it's Christmas, and most things work for Christmas and when there's chocolate involved. It's like gifts from God."
“A gift like you.”
She blushes and walks back to the door. “Merry Christmas, I’ll save you a plate.”
“Merry Christmas, Merrilyn, and take tomorrow off. I’ll see you Friday.”
The floor is quiet. I’m left alone with my thoughts. Last night the banquet was a hit, Pierce okay my bid for his building, everything seemed to work as I planned except Quanesha.
Merrilyn is right. The unexpected pulled the rug from under me, and with Quanesha, I landed on something I would have never found because I can't dream a woman like her up. We laugh, we fight, we fuck, we love. We're two in eight billion, and I can't lose her.
I call, but her line goes straight to voicemail. I stand. I guess it's time to do some billionaire shit. I don't need snow or a Christmas wish. All I need is Quanesha's forgiveness.
I board my private plane this morning, nervous. I couldn't sleep, and Quanesha must have her phone off because it's going straight to voicemail. I reached out to Pierce, hoping to reach Daiya, but I had no luck. I have two addresses—one to her place and the other to her job.
How did this happen? I'm flying across the country to convince Quanesha that I love her. Fuck… My heart aches because I walked away from her, not once but twice. I've worked this scenario out a thousand ways, and I'll plan a thousand more to have her.
That firecracker walked in, and I don't recognize my life. I miss our morning calls. I miss our late-night calls. I miss the taste of her on my tongue. And what I miss more than being balls deep in her is her laugh.
I smile, looking out the window.
She’s gotta say yes.
I’m not leaving until I have her back.
I remove the check from my pocket. The moment she gave it back, I knew she's it. She's the one.
I close my eyes, focusing on her and what she needs from me. How can I support her dreams and have her in my life?
I thought about Broadway, and I phone a few studio contacts hoping they'll help me help her. Merrilyn laughed when I told her about this trip. She's seen women come and go, but she saw me falling for Quanesha from the moment I gave her a section in my office. And I'd do it all again, except I wouldn't have let her leave the banquet alone.
The vibe in Los Angeles differs from New York. There’s a hustle in New York that’s unmatched, and it's warm compared to the winter temperatures at home. Because of the time, Deacon drives me to her job.
It takes a friend of a friend to get me into Quanesha’s building, and now I’m not sure where to start. Can’t remember the last time I apologized to someone, and not because I’m above it, but because I try to do no harm to people. It’s how my father taught me. In the service business, people are our livelihood. They ensure I pay generous salaries to my staff. I wouldn’t be here without them.
Quanesha's disappearance felt fucking personal. One minute she's screaming my name, riding my face, and the next, she wouldn't answer my calls. Yeah, I could have walked in her suite. But I'm not a man that has to bend for a woman… until today.
“Mr. Wellington.”
I blink. “Yes, and you are?”
“Lauren, assistant to Mr. Wilson.”
"Good morning. How's Gus doing?"
“He’s well, sir. He’s on vacation and told me to help you in any way possible.”
I nod. “Thank you. I’m looking for Quanesha Montgomery.”
“Qua-nesha Montgomery. That name’s not familiar. But we have an employee database.”
I follow Lauren to her office. “It’s quiet around here.”
“Yes, we’re in post-production. Most of the executives are out.”
“That must be nice.”
"Yes, we get time to catch up before the whirlwind starts again. Let's see what I can find." Her fingers run over the keys, and she sighs. "I'm not finding anything."
Duality. “Uh, try Rachelle.”
“Oh, I know her. Come on, she’s a few floors up.”
We walk through the office, and she points out awards, movie memorabilia, and I can't hear any of it. The thought of approaching Quanesha on her turf has me on edge.
“Knock, knock.”
“Lauren, what are you doing here? I thought Mr. Wilson flew the coop.”
I can't see her, she's on the other side of the wall, and I barely recognize her voice.
"He did. I'm working on budgets for production. You have a guest." She motions to me, and I step forward.
“Hello, Quanesha.” She hops straight up, and I step inside.
“Thank you, Lauren.” We say in unison.
“That was cute.” She laughs and leaves us alone.
There wasn’t enough work or activity to cover missing her. My eyes roam Quanesha's body. She's in a button-up white shirt. Her hair straight with soft curls draped over her shoulders. A single thin gold necklace hangs from her neck. Her lips shine, and there's a tentative smile.
I travel the length of her neck, and the light scent of her perfume fills the air. It smells like her, and I missed that too. Then our gazes lock.
Happy, worried, fear.
I still see love in her eyes, even though I’m not sure I deserve it, or her. But she’s stuck with me.
“What are you doing here, Carson?” I expect venom. Not the look of pain in her eyes.
“I came to find you. How are you?”
She doesn't respond, and I'm sure Quanie's in her head cursing me out.
“Tell Quanie I know. I fucked up.”
"Don't do that, Carson." Her eyes fill with tears, and I could kick my own ass. "You can't come here acting like sh— we’re cool when we’re not. I can’t do this right now.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes, but I’m not talking to you.”
“Can I at least sit down?”
She rolls her eyes, “Yeah.”
I sit and look around her office. Not quite what I expected. It feels nothing like the woman I know. There are no pictures, no decoration, just bare walls and a desk with stacks of paper.
“What are you doing here?”
"I had a plan. Several plans, and they all required begging, throwing you over my shoulders, or camping out in L.A."
Her eyes soften. “You have a lot of faith in your back.” She chuckles, leaning back into her chair. “Which one did you settle on?”
“Begging.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “The Carson Wellington, III is about to beg. Are you sure you can handle that?”
"Yeah. I was an asshole to the only woman I've loved to the point of complete overwhelm, and…" the possibility for failure feels so real I can't breathe. "And I'm prepared to do whatever it takes for you to forgive me."
The tears gathered in her warm brown eyes roll down her beautiful face. The knot in my stomach tightens, and I stare at hands that want nothing more than to touch her.